


The Last Time (Put My Name at the Top of Your List)

by let_me_read_you_a_romance



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy (Off-Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_me_read_you_a_romance/pseuds/let_me_read_you_a_romance
Summary: A short and angsty one-shot inspired by Taylor Swift's "The Last Time"





	The Last Time (Put My Name at the Top of Your List)

The Last Time (Put My Name at the Top of Your List)  
M This is the last time you tell me I’ve got it wrong  
H This is the last time I say it’s been you all along  
M This is the last time I let you in my door  
H This is the last time I won’t hurt you anymore

“This has to stop.” Marya braced her hand on the doorframe and gazed tiredly down at Hélѐne. Her chest still heaved and her voice cracked as she said it. A light snowfall dusted the scene, hovering in Hélѐne’s hair as she clutched her shawl to her chest. For the dozenth time in recent memory Marya looked down at her. Evicting her. It was futile as sending off a cat after one had fed it. She always came back.

“Masha?”

“We can’t keep doing this, you and I. We aren’t meant for each other. I think you’ve known it as long as I have.”

“What does that matter, Love?” Hélѐne said. She dropped the shawl on the icy stair and was in front of Marya in a moment, filling her vision and clouding her precision with perfume. “What does it matter if we’re forever so long as now is beautiful?” Marya squeezed her eyes tightly shut and took Hélѐne’s wrists, forcing her to take a step back.  
“Forever matters-” To me “-to the world.”

“And I suppose now the world matters more to you than me, now that it’s convenient. I thought we agreed that the world was a mess,” Hélѐne begged, sliding her hands into Marya’s. “I thought we agreed that we were better.”

“This isn’t a discussion,” Marya sighed, pulling her hands from Hélѐne’s soft ones. “We can’t go on like this. What do you need to hear,” She asked, her tone building, “That the world doesn’t exist? That we can lock ourselves up in this mansion until it crumbles? Frankly, Elena, I’d rather be able to blame the outside now than have to blame the alternative.”  
Hélѐne took a step back.

“You really think nothing of me,” she said coldly, meeting Marya’s eyes in a moment of sharp decision uncommon for her. “You think I don’t care enough about us to keep quiet.”

“You don’t,” Marya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in a gesture that made her feel far older than she was.

 

This is the last time you tell me I’ve got it wrong

 

“You nearly ousted us to all of Moscow last night. It was brazen, even for you. We should never have gone to that party, and you never should have invited me. We can’t be seen together like that.”

“You’re ashamed of me,” Hélѐne said, staggering out into the snow. “This isn’t about the public at all, is it?”

It was so difficult to be angry with her when the snow framed her like an angel. She could almost see the halo. That damned bird headpiece she wore added to the image.

“Of course not. I could never be ashamed of you.”

“This isn’t because of that party, we’ve been to dozens of parties. I thought you had fun,” Hélѐne said. The look in her eye was weakening Marya’s resolve. She took a deep breath and grasped the door handle.

“I won’t be told my point, Elena,” Marya said sharply, “You made a risky decision, and we can’t do this anymore. Go. Before I make you.”

 

This is the last time I say it’s been you all along

 

“Fine.” She’d never lashed out at Marya, she’d promised herself not to at the beginning. Marya was the one thing she thought might stick. She really thought that with her traditional attitude she might have demanded commitment. Hélѐne would’ve given it. She would’ve traded anything for this. Not anymore.

 

This is the last time I let you in my door

 

Marya didn’t look back. She just took a snapshot of Hélѐne standing there in the snow, her hands curled into fists, her eyes torn between rage and grief. It was too familiar. She shut the door.

 

This is the last time I won’t hurt you anymore

 

Maybe Hélѐne would have spared Marya. Maybe she would’ve hidden away, or remained abstinent. Then again she might have thrown herself into the snow at Marya’s feet and begged her forgiveness. Either one would have sacrificed everything Hélѐne knew, so Hélѐne did neither of those things. Instead, she went out with her brother and she clung to Dolokhov like a child, laughing at his jokes and staying out until dawn.

For all Hélѐne knew she might have told all of Moscow about them. The time passed in a drunken blur as she rid herself of Marya. She drank until she couldn’t stand and when she collapsed, Dolokhov would carry her home. So the weeks went by and she no longer knew a morning without a hangover or with a lover. She kept a flask on her, and Anatole and Dolokhov didn’t notice, so much as ask. She preferred it that way. If they asked she might talk, and if she talked she might not stop. So she spoke little and attended few parties. Their bar that had been her habit became her sanctuary. The booth nearest the bar was her’s now, marked with an E.V.K., scratched in with a knife in a moment of drunken laughter. She hardly left it that booth, and so never noticed the red haired woman watching her from the back of the room.


End file.
